Lake of Fire (21 page)

Hank Falls’s crimson-and-black steamboat, topped with golden flames, rested at anchor beside a larger dock at water level. An oil lamp burned in one of the cabins on the lower deck, and Laura could see Hank and the same slender woman he’d been with the night she’d met him. She looked younger than Laura remembered, not more than twenty. The same purple dress set off her figure; lamplight gleamed on her golden hair.

Hank stood with his long arms akimbo, his cheroot planted between his lips. He raised a brow at something the woman said, shook his head angrily, and drew the curtain over the window.

Cord released her arm. “Did I hurt you?” His tone was gentle.

She walked away, rubbing her wrist. Tonight was the dark of the moon, and the stars shone brightly in the black sky.

“Back to the business at hand,” Cord sa id dryly. “I don’t think the best way for a man and woman to begin is by deceiving each other.”

“To begin what?”

No matter that she’d given her cousin a bloody nose when she was eleven, she couldn’t let Cord play both ends against the middle. “Constance cares for you.”

He caught both her hands in his.

She tugged at them. “Let go!”

He held on. The taffeta dress of Constance’s was cut low and square at the neck, and Laura felt sure he could see down her bodice.

“How could you, how can you act as though there is something between us, with you engaged to Constance?” Laura got free. “You thought it was all right to use me because I was a poor woman.”

“You could have told me you were rich.”

“You could have told me you weren’t a mountain man.”

Cord loomed over Laura. “Why were you spying in the stable?”

She turned away and saw the light go out in the cabin of Hank’s steamboat.

“I was paying a visit to Dante,” she said stiffly, “when you and your betrothed came waltzing into the barn. Not wishing to interrupt your little tryst, I left at the first opportunity. I must say I got the distinct impression that everything is going very well between you and your future wife.”

His mouth set into a taut line. “I took Constance to that stable thinking I could get you out of my system …”

Laura’s stomach fluttered. “It looked as though you were trying quite hard.”

“I was, and for good reason. You have not exactly shown an aversion to Hank Falls.”

A board creaked on the dock behind her.

“Thank God that Miss Fielding shows no aversion
to me.” Hank sounded smooth on the surface, but an undertone said he would like nothing better than to call Cord out.

Laura whirled. “Hank …” She’d believed he had gone to bed with the woman in purple.

His smile looked forced. “Your father has been wondering where you are. I believe he may have seen your rather unorthodox exit from the dance floor.”

“I don’t need my father to speculate on my whereabouts.”

“Perhaps I should tell him you consort with the enemy.”

“Perhaps you should not intrude where you have not been invited,” Cord countered. Both men bristled.

“Stop it.” Laura stamped her foot and felt the pier shift. “If you want to fight over … the hotel, you can do it without me.”

She gave a single glance toward the bright lights of the lobby where her father waited and swerved away into darkness. Her steps speeded until the black trunks of trees seemed to rush past her.

How dare her father send Hank to be her watchdog? Or had Father been the one to seek her out tonight? Hank might have heard her and Cord’s voices. If so, he might have taken up this “rescue” mission on his own.

Were those footsteps behind her? It really was black out here.

Her breathing sounded harsh in her ears, and the
foot beats behind her grew louder, boots thudding on the earth.

What if it were Hank? He had pressed his thigh against hers at dinner last night and claimed that by virtue of her father’s business, she must automatically view Cord as the enemy.

What if it were the outlaw chasing her? Her heart thudded as she imagined the gaunt form from the coach.

Laura looked over her shoulder and saw a looming shadow.

Her outstretched hands hit first. Her chest, cheekbone, and temple slammed into something upright and unyielding. Pain exploded in her skull, and she found out the expression “seeing stars” wasn’t an old wives’ tale. The breath whooshed out of her, and her head felt as though somebody had swung a fist and decked her.

Hands grabbed her elbows, steadied her. She drew in a shuddering breath.

“God, Laura. Are you all right?” In the dark, she couldn’t see the color of Cord’s eyes, but sensed their intensity.

As the first shock of impact started to subside, she twisted in his grip. “Let me go.”

He released her. “Your attitude says you’re not hurt.”

Laura raised her hand to her throbbing temple. Warm wetness said otherwise. “I’m bleeding.”

Cord touched her cheek in the tender place. “So you are.” In the shadows, she made out movement,
hand to trouser pocket. Then soft linen patted her wound and pressed to staunch the flow.

She stood trembling, while the pain continued to subside.

“My instincts tell me,” Cord murmured, “that a tough gal like you will survive.”

“Tough?”

“Shooting a bear, catching a fish … cooking over an open fire in the forest.”

“And all you want is my hothouse flower cousin.”

“Very well.” He grabbed her fingers for the fraction of a second it took to press his handkerchief into her hand. In the dimness, she detected that he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Just one question, tough gal. Are you running from Hank, your father … or me?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“I’m making it my concern.” His hands, which she had demanded he remove from her, were back, sliding up her arms to her shoulders.

“But …” Her voice came out a whisper. Through the sleeves of Constance’s dress, which was rapidly becoming inadequate to warm her in the evening chill, she felt heat radiating from Cord’s palms.

“Isn’t this better?” He pulled her against him. “The two of us in the woods again instead of putting on airs beneath the chandeliers?”

Her hand was caught between them against his crisp shirt. She knew it was white, but in the dark, it was merely a paler shade of night.

Before he moved, she knew it would happen. Knew it despite Constance, no matter her father and Hank, knew that she wanted it, just as she had wanted a mountain man with nothing to offer.

His mouth came down. She lifted hers to meet him.

For such a large man, his touch was unexpectedly gentle. The scent of his skin filled her head and brought a wave of longing for everything else she associated with him. For the rich aroma of pine, fresh-cut with Cord’s small hatchet, for campfire smoke and the crisp chill of dawn when she woke beside him. For all the memories she knew would haunt her, long after she returned to Chicago.

How easy it would be to pretend nothing stood between them, to go with him deeper into the forest.

But if she did, she’d be a fool. No matter what Cord said, her cousin wore his betrothal ring. And as long as Constance believed in Cord, that meant he had not broken off with her.

The sweet ache in her turned to the burn of anger, and Laura shoved him away. “Stop behaving like a savage.”

Cord froze at the word that had the power to make him crazy.

Though he should keep Laura with him, make sure she was all right after hitting her head, his history
rose before him … for the moment more vivid than the woman who whirled and disappeared into darkness.

“Savage! Savage!” He imagined he could hear the boys screaming.

Cornered on the playground in Salt Lake after school—Cord could still see that faraway yard, hard-packed earth without a blade of greenery to relieve it.

“Half-breed bastard!”

He’d run as fast as his shorter legs could carry him, but they’d headed him into a corner beside the white wooden schoolhouse.

He dove at them without even thinking that they were both sixteen to his eleven. Levi Price was thin and wiry, and he might have been able to take him, but Carey Phillips was a blond ox. Cord raised his small fists to fend them off, standing with his back against the wall. Carey could have finished him with his bare hands, but instead he pulled a knife.

As soon as she realized Cord was not following, Laura slowed to avoid any more collisions with trees. Though the lights on the hotel porch helped her see the black silhouettes, they also blinded her to what was underfoot.

When she reached the lakeside stairs below the lobby, her focus was on the ground.

“Did your cousin’s betrothed catch up with you out there?”

Laura jumped and looked up to find Hank in a waiting pose. He nodded toward the forest, and lifted a hand toward where her cheekbone throbbed. She imagined the bruise that must be forming, though she thought the bleeding had stopped.

“Did he, ah … ?” Hank paused.

“I ran into a tree in the dark.”

A raised brow said he didn’t believe her. “I can settle the matter with Mr. Sutton for you.”

“I’ll thank you to keep your insinuations to yourself. He never touched me.” As soon as the words were out, she heard their untruth and flushed.

She lifted her chin. “While we are on the subject of clandestine things, Mr. Falls …”

“Hank.”

“You might tell me what you were doing sneaking around in the woods this morning wearing buckskin. Playing native?”

Hank apparently had the presence of mind to appear dumbfounded. “In the woods? Can you imagine me wearing some crude costume?”

He broke off, his brow beetling. For a moment, he was silent, then went on, “Whomever you saw, you may be certain it was not me.”

He took her arm and guided her up onto the outdoor deck. She smelled tobacco smoke on the gray suit that hung on his tall frame and had trouble imagining him in buckskin.

As they entered the hubbub of lights and music of the lobby, Laura scanned the group. “Where is my father?”

Hank did not look around. “I believe Forrest has retired for the night.”

She planted her feet. “How dare you tell me he was looking for me?”

Sliding an arm around her waist, Hank drew her toward the dance floor. “That was quite a while ago when he was looking for you, as you will recall. Since then, he mentioned feeling fatigued.”

“I must go and check on him.” Laura started to pull away.

“He gave explicit directions to Mrs. Devon that he was not to be disturbed.” Hank pulled her against his starched white shirt and gray waistcoat. “Dance?”

She gave in. Now was not the time to confront her father and have him ask about her leaving through the back door with Cord … if he had seen their exit as Hank suggested. And if Cord came back to the lobby, let him see her with Hank.

Another waltz and it was different from being with Cord; none of that wild dizziness that made her want to be carried along.

While they moved to the music, Hank reverted to pursuing her. “You must dine with me some evening aboard the
Alexandra.”

Laura didn’t answer.

“Within my quarters, she is no simple vessel. There are Oriental rugs and Limoges china.”

Across the room, Laura noted the young blonde she had seen aboard the boat. “It sounds as though you enlisted a woman’s touch at decorating.”

Hank nodded. “My sister had the china made up especially for the boat.”

“Your sister?”

“You’ve seen Alexandra.” Hank inclined his head toward the girl. “I failed to introduce you after she was rude the evening you arrived.”

“The lady in purple,” she breathed in surprise. “I thought …”

“Quite rightfully,” Hank agreed, “you thought she was my mistress.” His dark eyes met hers directly, hotly. “There is no other woman in my life, Laura.”

As though it were his right, he snugged her even closer.

Automatically, she fended off the advance, the way Aunt Fanny had taught her. With downcast eyes, she murmured, “You would not want me to think you were making a declaration, sir?”

Hank laughed.

An undertone of bitterness chilled her. Recalling the predatory stalk with which he had moved through the woods this afternoon, she suddenly suppressed a gasp.